Genie Town
by E350
Summary: Norm's lamp is bought at a garage sale - little does the genie know, this is only his FIRST master this week. As he drifts from master to master, utter bedlam ensues.
1. Prologue

An idea I've been toying with for a bit. It's a second tier story, so don't expect daily updates for this one or anything, but I thought it might be fun.

**

* * *

Genie Town**

**Prologue**

_Cell Block 13,  
Abracatraz Fairy Correctional Facility._

Well, that's just life, ain't it? You finally get a break in life, and it's followed by the cops. Didn't even get a trial or anything – jarhead just threw me in here for the _lulz_, I guess.

To be really honest, it's kinda refreshing to get off that madhouse they call Earth. At least here I can _relax_.

Oh, wait – I'm guessing you're kinda confused, ain't ya? Name's Norm; I'm a genie. Well, I was a genie, but as of yesterday, that groove is _broken!_

So is my freedom, my possessions and my wallet. But I'm not too broken up about it. Jarhead can't keep me in here together.

What? You wanna hear my story? What are ya, my biographer?

Alright, fine, have it your way. I was born in…ah, I can't remember. 1500BC? 1000BC? Look, it was a long time ago. I do remember _where_ I was born, though – Babylon, the D.C. of Mesopotamia. Seriously, though, all it had going for it was some code of laws and a fancy garden. If you want tourist stuff, go to Greece.

Anyway, I've had a lot of masters. Some were alright – heck, Alexander the Great may have been a warmonger, but he was a _dang _good partier! Problem is, you can only stand so many centuries of unconditional slavery before it starts to get _really_ jading.

Gradually, I changed my tone. None of my masters actually card about me as a person, they just wanted their wishes. So I started messing with them. You want immortality? You never mentioned eternal youth. You want wealth? I'll drop several pounds of gold on ya. You want to lead your armies to Moscow? Fine – have fun with that Russian winter, Addie.

I sucked to them because they sucked to me. People suck, friend – never forget it.

So, how did I get my freedom? Well, _that's_ a long story. Might wanna take a seat, kid. We're gonna be here a long time…


	2. Paulina Sanchez

It may soon become obvious that I do not like Paulina.

At all.

Also, tell me if this might require raising to a T-rating. I like to be safe.

Review replies;

**TweenisodeOrange:** No, I'm afraid I have not. Thanks for reading!

**unknown20troper:** I thought that you'd like this. XD Norm is quite fun to write. Thanks for reviewing!

**Subuko no Jess:** Well, we're going to get a lot of that in this story, mark my word. :) Thanks for the review!

**Movie-Brat:** Well, this for a start. :P :D Thanks very much!

**Zim'sMostLoyalServant:** Save for a few small bits, yes, this is entirely first-person. There's a lot of masters ahead, so stay tuned. :) Thanks!  
**

* * *

One: Paulina Sanchez**

_ABRACATRAZ ARCHIVES  
NORM CASE – FILE 001 – SANCHEZ, PAULINA M.  
Born 12/12/1996.  
Father: Guillermo Sanchez (Spanish immigrant to the United States.)  
Mother: Maria Calado (Naturalised American of two generations – Portuguese.)_

_Displays extreme narcissism. Runs on desire for social and material abundance. Doted on by parents to the point of being considered 'spoilt'. Has an extreme phobia of motorbikes._

* * *

It all starts a week ago. I'm just hanging in my lamp (not like I could do anything else), waiting for some sucker to come along and screw up their three wishes.

You ever been stuck in one room for all your life? Doubt it. If you wanna know what it's like, how about you sit and watch paint dry for a few hours. Then imagine doing that every day.

Not fun.

So, I'm kicking my heels in the lamp, waiting for someone to pick me up. It's turned up at another garage sale, so it shouldn't be too long.

Then the lamp vibrates – another fool, eh? How am I gonna screw 'em up this time? Foreign money? Power without loyalty? Heh, there was that one time somebody wished for one of those nuke-cars from those fifties ads. Long story short – Three Mile Island.

This one takes a while to rub (heh…rub), so I'm left to cool my heels while they happily shake me around like they're hoping that that'll make the lava do anything different.

Finally, I get the suction, and I'm pulled up, out of the lamp. I burst out in front of this teenaged Hispanic girl. Nearly give her a heart attack.

First thing I notice is that this kid's loaded. Queen-sized bed, three dressers, huge stuffed animals – it hurts my eyes.

So, once this girl recovers from her screaming fit, I introduce myself, naturally being lax in explaining the rules (no wishing for love, no zombies, I can be creative with…oh wait, I forgot that last one!). This girl is Paulina – I'm getting the impression that she's a total airhead. Easy meat!

"So…I can wish for…almost anything?" repeats Paulina.

I sigh heavily. "Yes. You can."

Paulina nods, and grins.

"I can wish for _anything!_" she exclaims, as if this is some amazing new development.

"Uh-huh," I sigh, "You gonna make any wishes, or am I…"

"I wish I was the most popular girl in the world!"

That, ladies and gentlemen, was about as well thought-out as the First World War. (Though to be honest, I was kind of expecting a sandwich.)

So, I do the hand-waving and wave the gong. Most popular girl in the world, huh? Fine. She gets all the goods you usually get with massive fame – _everything._

So, a massive crowd of pubescent guys appear outside, chanting Paulina's name. (The body odour's nearly toxic.) Paulina gets about thirty seconds to enjoy this before the pitfalls set in.

Some servant in a tux walks in, acting like I'm part of the wall as he hands Paulina a magazine. She skims through it – and her eyes widen.

Sounds like someone just discovered celebrity journalism.

"How did they get this?" she shrieks, "They've got a list of my boyfriends, the money I spend on clothes…"

"…and if you look down a bit," I add, helpfully, "They've got your bathroom habits."

Paulina screams and throws the magazine out the window.

"What was that?" demanded Paulina, "That's not supposed to happen!"

"Hey, my fair lady," I retort, "This is part of popularity. Privacy not included."

She grits her teeth. I give my best fake sad face.

"Fine," she snaps, "I wish everyone thought…no, knew that I'm perfect, so that they wouldn't need to read my secrets!"

"Wow," I nod, "Ever considered trimming that ego? I think you could stab people with it."

"Just do it!" barks Paulina.

This is just too easy.

So, she wants to be thought as perfect, as the best thing ever. 'Course, she's forgotten that _everyone_ wants to be the best thing ever. They're gonna be insanely jealous, or they're gonna be insanely devoted to her.

Someone, somewhere, is nutty enough to act on that. And it will be either tragic or hilarious.

So, just after I've done my thing, someone kicks the door open. Paulina screams…again.

This ugly, fat teenaged girl, with pale skin and more warts then a frog with a terminal disease, is standing in the door, holding one of those wooden cooking spoons. She's got this crazed glint in her eye.

"What do you want?" thunders Paulina.

"Paulina!" the girl screeches, "It's you! In the flesh!"

"…yeah," nods Paulina, slowly, "Now go home."

"No," the girl breathes, "I came too far for you to dismiss me. You're going to be mine, Paulina."

She gives a creepy, toothy grin.

"We can talk," she chuckles, "We can hang out. And we can…play the Spoon Game."

She whacks the spoon over her palm, still grinning.

"You know," I remind Paulina, "You still have a wish left."

Paulina shuts her eyes, and begins to scream.

"They can't touch me!" she bellows, "I'm more then a person, I'm a special snowflake! I'm beautiful! Make them see that, Norm! _I wish I was a work of art!_"

I do my thing, as this crazy girl tries to jump Paulina. There's a sudden gong, and Paulina is gone.

The girl looks at me.

"Another vanity case, Norm?" she asks in a gruff voice.

"Too easy," I nod.

"Yeah," nods the girl, "I'm heading back to the Realm of Potential Magic, catch you later."

She vanishes in a poof.

If you're wondering what that was – well, there's this place called the RPM, which is where magical creatures draw their magic from. There are monsters there called wishlings, who can take on any form wished by a human. I like to use them to mess with people.

As I get sucked into the lamp, I think a little about Paulina. Meh, she'll be fine, I'm pretty sure. She's in _good_ hands.

* * *

"…_and this next statue is the _Paulina de la Sanchez_, commissioned by the King of Spain in 1777," the museum guide stated, "As you can see, it is a magnificently crafted piece, which the Municipal Art Museum is lucky to have…"_

_Star glanced at the marble statue. In the back of her mind, she found it vaguely familiar, but she shrugged it off. She didn't know a 'Paulina', after all._

_Excusing herself from the group, she walked off with the intention of using the bathroom._

_On her way back, her eyes set on a lava-lamp, lying uselessly in a garbage bin in a museum corridor…_

_

* * *

ABRACATRAZ ARCHIVES  
NORM CASE – FILE 001 – SANCHEZ, PAULINA DE LA  
Sculpted 12/12/1777.  
Sculptor: Pepe Del Toro (Spanish National.)  
Commissioner: King Charles III of Spain (Spanish National.)_

_Attempts to recover victim from wish so far have been unsuccessful. Genie contract dictates that no foul play involved in wish, therefore department cannot nullify wish. Difficulty may be met in finding anything Norm is actually guilty of. Investigator requires coffee immediately._


	3. Star

**Detective88:** Billy and Mandy, eh? I need to see that show. :D Thanks for reading!

**acosta perez jose ramiro:** I'm glad you like it! Thanks for reviewing.

**Movie-Brat:** I have someone for this chapter, but Spoony can be done in the future. X) Thanks for reviewing!

**Subuku no Jess:** Yay! Another Paulina hater! (Does anyone actually _like_ her? XD) I really enjoy writing Norm, I've got to say. Thanks very much.

**TweenisodeOrange:** There's a place in the Failblog with her name on it, methinks. Thanks!

**DoktorK:** Well, I was going to have Fosters characters in this, and maybe the Simpsons, so who knows? :D To be fair about genies, they _are_ kind of confined to a small space for all eternity. That's got to suck. :\ Thank you!

**Zim'sMostLoyalServant:** Yep, she's still aware. She's gonna think about this, dammit! Thanks for the response! :D

**unknown20troper:** Well, Norm's pretty awesome, isn't he? I'm a bit broke at the moment, but I'll check out the Bartimeaus Trilogy sooner or later. (I _do_ need airplane-reading later this year.) Thanks a lot!

**

* * *

Two: Star Loran**

_ABRACATRAZ ARCHIVES  
NORM CASE – FILE 002 – LORAN, STAR  
Born 31/01/1997.  
Father: Albert Loran (US national)  
Mother: Gabrielle Garment (US national)_

_Displays mild to moderate fear of other persons opinions, therefore clings to Paulina Sanchez (FILE OUTDATED. YEAH, THANKS NORM.) Close to ghost hunter Valerie Grey. Once held relationship with T. Foley – ended poorly._

* * *

I don't even know how I got there. I mean, sure, the lamp follows the master until after the third wish, so I should've been in the museum. But in the _trash?_ Yeah, real funny lamp. If I ever see that thing again, I'm going to blow it up. With a nuke. Along with Canada.

Well, before the stench fills the lamp and I suffocate to death, someone picks up the lamp and decides to rub it. Well, more schmucks for me!

I get another teenage girl. _Wonderful_. This time the pubescent idiot with longish blonde hair (this is gonna suck) and something like a cheer-leader outfit.

"Wha-what the…" she stammers.

"Yeah, hi," I groan, "We gonna do this wishing thing or what?"

"Y-y-you're a _genie?_" she gasps.

I groan.

"Yes. Now start wishing."

"What, is there a time limit?" she asks, holding her head, "OK, gotta think, gotta think…"

"Uh, there isn't a…" I begin.

"Come on, I…just wish I had time to think…"

Strike one.

I do the gong. Around us, all the people in the museum stop moving, the clock stops ticking, and Star glances around.

"What just happened?" she asks in a panicked tone.

"I stopped time," I deadpanned, "Now that that's settled, I've got news for you. There's no time limit. You wasted a wish."

Star tilted her head.

"You said you wished you had time to think," I elaborated, "So I granted it. Time's gonna stay stopped until you make your next wish. Now don't waste the next one."

Star pouts.

So I go over the rules, and she begins to mull in the airy expanse of her head.

"I got it!" she announces (yeah, I doubt that), I've been looking for this," she flashes a museum map in her face and points at something, "But I can't find it. I wish you could take us there!"

Why sure, airhead.

One gong later, and we're standing in front of some statue of some guy who's been dead for two hundred years. I should know, I was his genie. You ever tried being Andrew Jackson's genie? He tried to challenge me to a duel.

"Yeah, great doing, genius of the month," I grin, "You just used my vast supply of magic to do something that would have taken about fifteen seconds if you'd asked a guide. Bravo."

Star shoots me a look.

"I'm trying to keep it small," she replies, "I saw a movie about genies once with…well, I can't remember, but it said if you wish for really big things, they go wrong."

Oh, she's genre savvy! A genre savvy airhead! (Like Crocker but less funny to watch.)

"OK then," I shrug, "Easier on me, then. Should I whip up a sandw…"

Then we're interrupted.

Anyone remember Crazy Frog? Remember how _annoying_ that thing was? Well, this ringtone's like that…but with the Chipmunks.

Before I commit seppuku on the spot, airhead picks up and begins to talk.

"Hey Val!" she grins, "You still on for…huh? You can't make it? Why?...You said that last time!...sigh…fine then, we'll catch up some other time…yeah, see you."

She hangs up and curses.

"Darn it!" she snaps, "Val blew me off again!"

If you really think about it, there's a slash fic right there.

"She's been so distant lately," she sighs, "Sometimes I wonder…"

She looks up, grinning. It's a lightbulb expression – this will end badly.

"I've got it!" she announces, snapping her fingers, "I've got my last wish!"

"A new ringtone?" I suggest.

"No!" corrects Star, "I wish I could know what's up with Valerie!"

Yeah, stock thought no. 232 – I've Heard This One Before.

Sighing, I wave my hands, there's a loud gong, and Star is gone. I begin to be sucked back into my lamp.

Well, I think, whatever happens next, she's done the right thing. Because friends don't let friends pursue a wacky hi-tech vendetta on their own.

_

* * *

Valerie sighed, and sat next to the dumpster. Phantom had gotten away _again_, and now she'd have to spend the whole day looking for him. So much for lunch with…was it Kwan? She couldn't remember._

"_Ah, come on, Val, we'll find him!"_

"_That supposed to be pep talk, Star?" asked Valerie._

"_It's better then nothing," S.T.A.R. (Suit Technological Assistance Render), the AI in Valerie's suit, replied._

"_Yeah, guess you're right," groaned Valerie, "I'm just gutted that he got away again…"_

_She glanced at the dumpster. Mr. Krabs was burying himself inside, looking for valuables._

"…_what are you doing?" asked Valerie, confused._

"_Lookin' for stuff to sell!" replied Mr. Krabs, "What's it look like?"_

_Mr. Krabs pulled out a lava lamp. He grinned, and walked away, whistling._

"_Hmm…" mused Star._

"_What is it?" asked Valerie._

"_Oh, nothing," replied Star, "Just feels like I've seen it before…"_

_

* * *

ABRACATRAZ ARCHIVES  
NORM CASE – FILE 002 – SUIT TECHNOLOGICAL ASSISTANCE RENDER (Star)  
Programmed 31/01/2009.  
Programmers: Axion Labs (funded by V. Masters)_

_Attempts to recover victim have been unsuccessful – again. Program appears unaware of original human existence, so attempts to have her wish herself to normal unlikely to work. Still entirely legal by Fairy World law. Need better lawyers.

* * *

_No, Norm ending up in the trash will not be a running gag.

Remember - friends don't let friends pursue a wacky hi-tech vendetta on their own.


	4. Mr Krabs

**nightmaster000:** I'll definately get an IZ character in here. :P The idea of Gaz having a genie terrifies me, though. Thanks for reading.

**acosta perez jose ramiro:** Well, Norm is a pretty crafty guy. :D Thanks for reviewing!

**DoktorK:** I think it shows that, unlike Paulina, I don't hate star. :) Thanks for the review!

**Movie-Brat:** Oh, there is much chaos to be had...much, much chaos. *evil laugh* Thanks very much!

**Zim'sMostLoyalServant:** I like to give Norm a bit of medium-awareness, since I like fourth wall jokes. Definately getting someone from IZ in here. Thanks!

**TweenisodeOrange:** Indeed, this is _bad..._ Thanks a bunch!

**unknown20troper:** Yeah, I figured you might like that one. I thought of you when I put that in. Thanks for the response!

**

* * *

Three: Eugene Krabs**

_ABRACATRAZ ARCHIVES  
NORM CASE – FILE 003 – KRABS, EUGENE H.  
Born 12/05/1942.  
Father: Theodore D. Krabs (US national)  
Mother: Betsy Krabs (US national)_

_Displays extreme kleptomania, holding vast wealth yet refusing to spend it. Does not recognise existence of the minimum wage (rather like my boss, really.)_

* * *

I've seen a lot of jerks in my time.

I mean, some of my masters were…guh. Emperor Augustus, Hernan Cortez, Richard Nixon; there are some really shady guys in this world.

And then, there's this guy.

The crab pulls me out about an hour after airhead's finished, and the first thing I notice is his room looks like a shack. I mean, really, it looks like a shack, and it smells like it hasn't been washed since Woodstock.

"What kind of trickery is this, ya landlubber?" he demands, grabbing a plank of wood like it's a sword, "You some kinda of ghost?"

"Wait, easy man, easy!" I exclaim, "I'm a genie. You get three wishes. That's _good!_"

"Wishes?" considers the guy, "Are they free?"

"…yeah."

"Alright, you got a deal!" the guy grins, "The name's Eugene Krabs!"

He extends his hand. I ignore him.

"Yeah, whatever, Mr. K," I sigh, "You gonna make a wish or what?"

"Oh, I know exactly what _I_ want," grins Krabs, "I wish everything I touched turned to gold!"

I groan. I know how this is gonna end. You know how this is gonna end. If I could just gong up King Midas and have him beat some sense into people who wish for that…

So I do the gong and he sits on his bed. With a great poof of smoke, it turns into gold. The look on his face is…kinda disturbing.

"_Yes!_" he exclaims, "I'm the richest man in the world!"

"Take it easy, it's just a bed," I sigh.

"But that's just the beginning, matie," grins Krabs, "Just watch!"

He jumped up and touched the roof. With a loud 'poof', the whole room is solid gold.

"Well, glad you're happy," I sigh, conjuring a stopwatch, "Now let's see how long until it all goes horribly wrong…"

"Wrong?"

Krabs laughs.

"How can this possibly go wrong…"

"Daddy?"

His daughter walks into the room, and I immediately decide that Charles Darwin was _way_ off with that Theory of Evolution, because she's a whale.

I mean it. She's an _actual whale_.

"Why did you turn the house to gold?" she demands (again, I'm apparently invisible here.)

"To be rich!" declares Krabs.

"But daddy, we're already rich!" retorts whale-girl, her voice giving me a migraine.

"Well, we're rich_er_," snaps Krabs, "Gimme give!"

He grabs whale-girl's hand. My hand, meanwhile, covers my face.

There's a 'poof', and whale-girl turns into gold before Krabs' eyes. He blinks.

"What was that?" he asked.

"Touch of gold, King Midas," I reply, "Nice one, _real_ smooth. Now, I guess I'm reversing this…"

"Reversing this?" quizzes Krabs, "This thing's gotta be worth a ton!"

"You are a horrible person," I deadpan.

"Meh, she'll walk it off," shrugs Krabs, "Now, I got I've got me second wish – I wish we were at the Chum Bucket!"

"…and you can't walk _because…_"

"Just do it!"

I give a sigh, and do the gong. Me and Mr. Monopoly appear in an empty restaurant, right in front of some microscopic green guy and his computer. He's obviously surprised to see us – can't think why.

"Krabs!" he exclaims, "When did you master teleportation?"

"Afternoon to you too, _Plankton_," snarls Krabs, "Say hello to my genie!"

Plankton blinks.

"So you finally cracked?" he asks.

"Laugh while ye can, Plankton," glowers Krabs, "Because you'll be gone soon. Genie!"

"I have a name, you know," I remind him.

"Whatever!" snaps Krabs, "I have me last wish! I wish that Plankton would be gone from me life! Now!"

"Whatever you say, boss man," I groan.

There's a loud gong and a puff of smoke – and Krabs is gone. Plankton tilts his head.

"Where'd Krabs go?" he asks.

"He's fine," I shrug, as I feel myself being sucked back into the lamp, "He's alive, well and penniless on the streets of Barcelona."

I give a chuckle as I vanish back into the lamp. The last thing I hear before I'm back inside…

"I'm not even gonna go there."

_

* * *

The lamp now sat, buried in the skip of the Chum Bucket, alone and untouched._

_Untouched, that is, until a small blue hand picked it up._

_Cradling the lamp to his blobbish form, Bloo grinned as he began to walk home. He'd always wanted a lava lamp – ever since five minutes ago._

_

* * *

ABRACATRAZ ARCHIVES  
NORM CASE – FILE 003 – KRABS, EUGENE H.  
Born 12/05/1942.  
Father: Theodore D. Krabs (US national)  
Mother: Betsy Krabs (US national)_

_Thanks to the Midas Victim Clause [32BC], Magical Incident Recovery Team has been able to revert Pearl Krabs to her original state (I guess they have to justify their existence somehow). Eugene Krabs himself is still in Europe at present – we'll give him another week before we return him. The reports we're getting from his attempts to get home are _priceless.

_To bad it doesn't convict Norm.

* * *

_Bloo has the lamp.

_Bloo has the lamp._

We're dead. :P_  
_


	5. Bloo and Mac

Surprise!

**Subspace Ace:** I'll check them out when I've time. Anyway, thanks for reading!

**AnimatedC9000:** Thanks! I try very hard to write Norm, and to keep this original. :D Thanks for reviewing!

**acosta perez jose ramiro:** He would, wouldn't he? XD Thanks for the review!

**TweenisodeOrange:** CHAOS WILL HAPPEN. :| Thanks very much!

**DoctorK:** Or Dan, for that matter. D: Thanks!

**strawberry jelly:** Well, the fourth wall is fun to mock. :) Danke Shon!

**unknown20troper:** Yeah, Mr. Krabs and magic do not mix. In the more recent episodes, I'm beginning to think _Plankton_ shows more compassion then Krabs. :[ Thanks exceedingly!

**Zim'sMostLoyalServant:** Yep, he deserved everything he got. :P I enjoy lampshade hanging. Thanks again!

**Movie-Brat:** Never saw FIM, but I'm getting the idea there. :) Thank you!

* * *

**Four: Bloo (and Mac)**

_ABRACATRAZ ARCHIVES  
NORM CASE – FILE 004 – KAZOO, BLOOREGARD Q.  
Born 13/08/2006  
Creator: Mac Ferguson (US National)_

_Narcissistic imaginary friend in shape of semi-cylindrical blue blob. Displays psychotic tendencies at times. Seems to be a quote-unquote 'good guy deep down' (paraphrased from one of our agents after reading history file). Enjoys paddleballs._

* * *

It's typical, you know. You're in your lamp, staring at the ceiling, when some idiot starts shaking the lamp. Not rubbing it – that'd be too kind. They shake it back and forth, and you bury your head in your hands because that means two people have the lamp, and they're fighting over it.

I don't need to tell you that that usually ends really, really badly.

At last, I begin to get sucked from the lamp, wondering what kind of bozos I got this time.

As it turns out, I get a small blue blob with a face and a short kid with longish hair – not the standard combination.

"Hey, look, there's a homeless guy in my lamp!" grinned the blob.

"Hey!" I snapped back, pointing at my outfit, "Does this scream 'hobo' to you, smoofhead?"

The kid sighed.

So, long story short, we get the usual intro and rule set out of the way. These guys are Mac and Bloo – apparently, Bloo's the kid's imaginary friend. So either this town is whacked, their house is on an ancient Indian burial ground or I've just gone completely nuts.

"So?" I ask, "You gonna make a wish or…hey, which one of you actually rubbed the lamp?"

The two glance at each other and shrugged.

"Well, you'll just have to share then," I groan.

"Ah man, why do I have to share?" whines Bloo, "_I_ found the lamp!"

"Ok, maybe we should start simple," muses Mac, rubbing his chin, "I wish for…an infinite supply of…"

"Jelly donuts!" erupts Bloo.

"_Bloo!_"

So, I do the thing that I do when I grant wishes.

There's this big rumble, and the door's kicked open. A gigantic, monstrous…yeti, maybe?...storms into the room, gleefully holding a wooden box.

"Look!" he yells, "I found an infinite supply of jelly donuts!"

He turns the box upside down.

"This is gonna suck…" I sigh.

With a thunderous roar, an avalanche of jelly donuts pours from the box, catching us all in a rockslide of below-average confectionary. We get pushed out the door and down the stairs (turns out we were in some kind of mansion), crashing through the front door and coming to a stop on the lawn.

The monster gets off the grass and runs away, bawling.

"That went well," I deadpan.

Bloo winces as Mac gives him a withering glare.

"_Bloo!_"

A woman walks up, looking kinda…well, it rhymes with hissed. You know what I'm talking about. She's a redhead, wears a green jacket and is probably early twenties.

Bloo sucks up his mess in the way that probably best describes him.

"It was him!" he shouts, pointing at Mac.

"The house flooded with jelly donuts!" snaps the girl, "You know how Mac gets with sugar…"

"Well, then, it was…"

I'm pretty sure the blob thinks this one over for a full minute.

"…Mr. Herriman?"

Mac buries his head in his hands.

"Of course," deadpans the girl, handing Bloo a broom, "Now start cleaning it up."

"But cleaning it is _your_ job!" snaps Bloo.

"I didn't make that mess!" rebuts the woman, "_You_ made it, _you_ can clean it up!"

"Your mouth can clean it!" retorts Bloo.

"Well, that was the worst comeback I ever heard," I note.

Bloo begins to word out another _brilliant_ comeback, when it seems to hit him that he has a genie.

"Hey," he states, in a bad attempt at a western accent, "You know what, Frankie? I'm beginning to think this house ain't big enough for the both of us."

"Bloo, just…" Frankie begins to demand.

"I wish you weren't so…big," finishes Bloo.

"You really suck at this, you know?" I interject.

"Just grant the wish."

I make the gong. When the smoke clears, Frankie is standing before us, looking somewhat confused – and reduced to about six inch tall.

She looks down at herself for twelve seconds, and then stares the blob right in the eye.

"_What did you do?_" she demands, in a tone that would be a lot more imposing if it didn't sound like one of the Chipmunks.

"_Bloo!" _snaps Mac, losing his patience, "Now look what you've done!"

"What!" demands Bloo, "She was annoying!"

"That doesn't give you the right to shrink her!" rebuts Mac.

"…what is going on?" asks Frankie, still looking confused.

"And _you!_" Mac points at me now, "You started this!"

"Yeah, but he wished for it," I remind him.

"How many people have you granted stupid wishes for?" demands Mac.

"…you mean today, or throughout history?" I reply, "Because he's the fourth idiot I got this afternoon."

"And did you twist _their_ wishes?" adds Mac.

"…maybe."

"See," snaps Mac, turning to Bloo, "Whatever you wish for is gonna get twisted and blow up in your face!"

"…but I got what I wished for!" reminded Bloo.

Mac groans.

"Alright, last wish," he snaps, turning around, "I wish for a catapult. Easy."

"Let me guess," I sigh, "You're gonna fire my lamp across town to get me away from you, right?"

Mac nods.

"Well, better not beat around the bush," I nod.

The catapult is gonged up, and I begin to be sucked back into the lamp. I make a mental note to take cover when I get back inside.

And this is where my story gets complicated…

* * *

_Mac crawled over the pile of donuts into Mr. Herriman's office, having catapulted the lamp off the premises. Wilt, Herriman, Frankie and Bloo had already gathered in the room, Frankie sitting irritably on the desk._

"_Well, it's gone," nodded Mac, "Not our problem anymore."_

"_Ah, but it is, Master Mac," boomed Herriman, "There is a genie loose on this town – we must stop it, and to do it, we must warn everybody!"_

"_Everybody?" quizzed Bloo._

"Everybody,"_ snapped Herriman, very seriously._

"_Uh…if we wanted to stop people from rubbing the lamp," questioned Wilt, "Shouldn't we have kept it?"_

_There was a long silence._

"…_well, that was pretty dumb," sighed Bloo._

_Wilt looked over to Frankie._

"_You gotta admit, you look really adorable that size," he grinned._

_Frankie buried her head in her hands._

* * *

_ABRACATRAZ ARCHIVES  
NORM CASE – FILE 004 – KAZOO, BLOOREGARD Q.  
Born 13/08/2006  
Creator: Mac Ferguson (US National)_

_No long-term physiological effects noted, nor any sign that he learnt anything from Norm. Status quo in effect._

_Why does _this_ guy get off scot-free, anyway?_

* * *

As an authors note, it's my belief that genies have a sort of perception filter thing that prevents them from being noticed by non-magical people unless pointed out, which explains him openly hanging out in the street in Dimmsdale, or in front of an angry mob in the Mayor's wish.

Yep, I just decided that genies are like TARDISes. :P


	6. Interlude: Police Business

Interlude! Yay!

Review replies;

**TweenisodeOrange:** Isn't that why we love him? :D Thanks for reading!

**Zim'sMostLoyalServant:** Yeah, I think the last of those was my favourite bit to write. XD Thanks for reviewing!

**DoctorK:** Sorry, I don't know who that is. :\ Don't worry - the next wisher isn't going to have a very good time... Thanks for the review!

**unknown20troper:** That sounds about right as well - but I like comparing Norm to the TARDIS. :P Thanks very much!

* * *

**Interlude: Police Business**

_19 Hartman Avenue,  
The north of town._

"…fire chief says the building's gutted. Don't like our chances of finding anything."

"Until CSI gets here, we keep looking. Understand, Harrison?"

"Yes sir."

Officer James Henrrys (the spelling came from a Scottish clan his family descended from) strode into the burnt shell of a building, looking around the destroyed living room for evidence of how the house burnt down.

It was a weird case, by any extent of the word. The owner of the house had been found halfway down the street, half-naked and screaming about some guy named Jack. His mother had called the police, the fire brigade, and the local asylum.

Coming across the wreckage of a coffee table, he noticed a small, shiny artefact at his feet. It was small black lava lamp, unharmed by the fire. It looked a bit old – probably something valuable.

"Sir, you got anything for forensics?" a voice called from outside.

Henrrys paused, and looked at the lamp.

"Nope," he shrugged, slipping the lamp into his pocket, "Nothing."

He'd sell it on his lunchbreak – who said cops had to be on the level?

* * *

_Cell Block 13,  
Abracatraz Fairy Correctional Facility._

Who said cops had to be on the level, huh?

While I'm being hurled across town by a catapult, Crockpot gets himself another genie. This one burns his house down. Some people never learn.

Except this genie gets picked up by a crooked cop with links to the criminal fraternity. And this genie ain't any normal genie.

He's Jack, and even I think that guy's vindictive. And I turned a teenage girl into a statue for kicks!

You wanna know who Jack is? Well, think of the worst things you can think of – the Black Death, the Great Fire of London, the Spanish-American War. He probably started it. And he doesn't do it to mess with jerks – he just does it for fun.

Let's just say I wasn't happy when I ran into him.

Now where was I? Oh yeah – I was flying through the air, into the centre of town…

* * *

Short, but I hope you like it. :) More will come shortly.


	7. Lisa Simpson

In b4 christmas, lol.

Review replies;

**TweenisodeOrange:** ...and there's more to come. :P Thanks for reading!

**DoktorK:** True, very true. :) Thanks for reviewing!

**Zim'sMostLoyalServant:** We'll see how it goes. :D Hope you like it, and thanks for the review!

* * *

**Five: Lisa Simpson**

_ABRACATRAZ ARCHIVES  
NORM CASE – FILE 005 – SIMPSON, LISA  
Born __03/06/2003__  
Father: Homer J. Simpson (American National)  
Mother: Marge Bouvier (American National)_

_Eight-year-old elementary student with limited social skills and a tendency towards activism. Has had no long-term relationships, despite interest shown by one Milhouse van Houten. Unusual hair style._

* * *

I think I hit my head when the lamp landed because I can't remember anything until my next master rubbed the lamp. When I finally wake up and feel the sucking (not like that), I have a throbbing headache and a bad temper.

Yep. The next master is gonna get it.

The 'lucky' gal is eight years old, and wearing a pearl necklace and orange dress. Her hair looks like you could puncture a tyre with one of the spikes. She has yellow skin. At this point, I'm not gonna bother asking.

"What in the…" she begins to explain.

I groan.

"Yeah, genie," I reply, "Genie with a migraine. Let's just get this over with…"

I explain the rules while rubbing my head. I feel like I've got the mother of all hangovers – maybe it's a concussion.

"Incredible!" she (her name's Lisa, apparently) exclaims, "With all your power, think of all the good we could do for the world!"

"Uh-huh…" I groan, "Can't you do small wishes first? My head feels like the morning after one of Alexander's nights out…"

"Alexander the Great?" she questions.

"Uh-huh," I moan, "Look, maybe you could…"

I don't finish the sentence. I'm too busy groaning at the sun as it emerges from behind a cloud.

"Let's see," muses Lisa, "How do I decrease my carbon footprint…"

That statement alone nearly pulls me out of the migraine. What kind of kid gets infinite power and uses it to eliminate their carbon footprint?

Eh, not the first weirdo I've had.

"I've got it!" she exclaims, clicking her fingers, "I wish I was photosynthetic!"

So that's how it is, huh? Of all the things you could wish for, it's _photosynthesis_. Way to go, kid.

I'm tempted to turn her into a flower and go lie down in my lamp, but sadly, that's not how it works. You see, magical creatures can heal minor injuries just by using magic – and three wishes would be more then enough to get rid of a concussion.

So I do the gong thing.

Lisa's skin turns green (it's the amazing technicolour skin) and her blood veins turn into…whatchamacallits, the things plants have instead of veins. Her hair turns into leaves and vines. Judging from her grin, she's happy.

Yep, that's right. No twist. Not while I've got a two hundred pound jackhammer in my skull.

Not _yet_, anyway.

Lisa breathes in and out, full of energy (from the sun. Duh.)

"This feels incredible!" she grins.

"That's great," I sigh, some of the ache in my head dissipating, "What next?"

Lisa begins to think again, rubbing her new plant skin.

"I got it!" she grins again, "I wish we could go into space!"

Did she mean humanity could go into space? Because all I heard was 'we'. Getting my groove back, I see.

I did the gong, and there we were, in zero-grav, above the Earth.

Lisa stumbles for a bit, and holds her throat. She eventually realises she isn't dying, because the sun's still giving her energy. Or something.

"Hey!" she snaps, "I meant _humans_ could go into space, not _us_."

"Well, you should've phrased it better, spike-head," I reply, grinning as my headache recedes some more, "Well, your last wish is coming up, so…"

I think she still trusts me, too. After all, I granted her first wish right when she phrased it properly. Little cheesehead probably doesn't suspect a thing.

"Alright," nods Lisa, thinking once again.

She thinks for a long time. That's alright – not like I have anything better to do then hang out in space – except everything else, of course.

"I got it!" exclaims Lisa, "Genie, I wish I could help the world!"

Game. Set. Match.

My headache fully disappears as I prepare to gong, and I look to Lisa one last time.

"…hook, line and sinker, 'girlfriend.'"

GONG.

* * *

_The Anti-Crime Integrated Network was the pride and joy of the police force – officers, agents of law enforcement and even AIs could access the network to pass information on a truly secure network._

_At 3.00, the ACIN received a message from one of its investors, Madame Foster, warning of a genie loose within the city. Most cities would take such news with a grain of salt, but this one was different – this had happened before, in the Desiree Incident._

_Valerie and Star received the news direct from the Mayor's office, and were ordered to consult ACIN immediately for further information._

_"This is Red Huntress and S.T.A.R., requesting update on the genie, out," radioed Valerie._

_"Got it," said the digitized voice of the Local Integrated Safety Assistant, "Last user is unknown, but we think it's somewhere to the south of town."_

_"Saving the data, Lis," replied Star, "We're on it."_

_"Good luck, guys," wished L.I.S.A._

_The AI closed the link, and turned within her digital realm to activate the interface for the Mayor._

_She couldn't shake a feeling of familiarity to this case…_

* * *

_ABRACATRAZ ARCHIVES  
NORM CASE – FILE 004 – LOCAL INTERGRATED SAFETY ASSISTANT (Lisa)  
Created: __12/02/2009__  
Creators: Axion Labs (funded by V. Masters – personality data contributed by H. and M. Simpson)_

_Attempts to – heck, you know what? Read the Star file again, except add the inner computer network of a city. No charges can be pressed on this. Jorgen's breathing down my neck here, people – get me some charges!_

* * *

The investigator isn't too happy, is he?


End file.
